There's a twitch in his jaw at that word. Domesticate. It teases along a thought he'd had not long ago about Alistair and there is a sickening moment where he's adrift, wondering if what he's taught her is right. If any of this is right or if he'd simply put her in a position to end up on a hook with tainted magic roiling through her brain.

His arm goes tight around her shoulders for a moment, his head dipping down as he breathes through it. In through his nose, out through clenched teeth- it passes. It'll pass. It'll be fine.

"They will know you are Dalish for...the twigs in your hair, Beleth." Or the flowers. So long as it is on the side with his good eye, he doesn't flinch or go still again.